The Diary of a Protector
by Kathryne Buzolic
Summary: She was sent there to help stop the evil that was lurking in the shadows. She never anticipated dreading her second chance ending, or finding herself head over heels in love with a boy that she'd only end up hurting. Priorities: Vampire and werewolf communication and assisting. Love and living were never part of the deal. Stiles/OC


**Helllooo, readers! This, as you can see, is a Teen Wolf/Vampire Diaries crossover. I've been sitting on this idea for a while, so let's see if anyone's interested! Really quick, before the chapter starts, I want you to know that I'm playing with the TVD timeline a bit so everything can fit in smoothly with Teen Wolf's timeline. Teen Wolf is in season two and Vampire Diaries is in season three. And here we go!**

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**The Diary of a Protector, Entry One**

_[Inscription on the inside of the front cover]_

_If you have found this journal, then my task is done. I have returned to my rightful place. If you are reading this and believe it to be fiction, I envy your ignorance. However, if you are reading this and know all that I am about to tell you, I do dearly hope that whatever I have written may shed some light on everything I have done. My biggest hope is that you can find it in your heart to forgive me for anything that has been said or done in my time with you._

—_A_

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There are three things you need to know before this story begins.

1. Vampires have been in existence over a thousand years.

2. Werewolves have been around for even longer.

3. A bite from a werewolf can kill a vampire.

There are several supernatural creatures living among us. Vampires, werewolves, witches, kanimas, even hybrids. Every day you see one of these beings, but you wouldn't know it. During the daylight hours, they look just like you and me. Human, like us.

Well, perhaps more you than me.

Now you're most likely wondering who I am and how I have come to know this. Unfortunately, a blood oath is preventing me from disclosing information such as my name and origin. So, let's make up a name, shall me? There are twenty-six letters in the English alphabet; let's string a few together.

Susan? Well, it's a pleasant enough name. Barbara? I haven't heard of many teenage girls in this century named Barbara. Vicki? It has a pleasant ring to it, but I don't necessarily feel like a Vicki. Katarina is very nice, but it could very easily cause confusion later on. Victoria? Seems a tad too regal for me, honestly. Zoe? I've never been fond of three-letter names, haven't the faintest why. Rose? I've never cared for the flower, and I detest the nickname 'Rosie'. How about...Aurora? Oh. I like that. Aurora. It's a bit fairytale, but that's never necessarily hurt anyone.

Hmm..Aurora. Aurora Stevens. I like that. I suppose that now, throughout this story, you—and everyone else I come in contact with—will know me as Aurora Stevens.

I can tell you_ almost _everything else, so I'll try to keep you in the loop as much as I can.

First off, my appearance. I'm not entirely sure who would honestly want to know what I look like, but putting a face to my name may help flesh out everything. I have been told on several occasions that I look eerily similar to my mother. I never met her, so I cannot tell you if this is true or not. My long brown curls have always been complimented, though I find them too frizzy to entirely enjoy them. I've heard that my angular face is considered attractive, and my long nose a true 'classic'. My dark brown eyes are my only redeeming feature, the only thing I truly find attractive. Even to myself, I find they seem to hold a million secrets and mysteries in their depths. My tall stature and slender frame have been a topic of discussion, though when I was born, a young girl being so tall was considered unattractive. Though, now, I find that it's perfectly acceptable to be just over average. I've never been the prettiest robin in the nest, but I've grown fond of my oddly delicate looks.

Now, on to the true question, the one that's been burning on your lips since I first started. What am I? I am a hybrid, of sorts. A dead creature of magic. Perhaps I should elaborate? I was killed in the year 1888. Torn apart by a psychopath. I was just sixteen. I was murdered for being accused of being a witch. I was one, yes. One of the most powerful witches in my bloodline. I have been sitting on the Other Side since then, unable to move on. I never understood why until now.

I cannot tell you much of my true task, for it has been forbidden. However, what I can tell you is I was revived in order to put a stop to the great evil waiting to unfold. And I shall do my duty honorably.

**xXx**

Beacon Hills, California. It's an average sized town with a previously peaceful reputation. Then the murders started. The bodies drained of blood, the girl torn in half. A high school student with a broken neck and the two men burned alive. Some of them were connected with the Hale arson six years previously, but the others? They were the products of enraged and delusional vampires.

The entire town was buzzing on the day of Kate Argent's funeral. I had to drive carefully to avoid hitting stray reporters or local sleazes hoping to harass the Argent family in order to get to the house nestled neatly between the Forbes and Martin homes. My new home for the time being. I cursed under my breath in French, finding distant amusement in the fact that my horrible words sounded so elegant. There were few people in Beacon Hills that weren't interesting in Kate's apparent serial killings.

Truth be told, I was one of them. She wasn't my concern. Though along with the other spirits I had watched her light the Hale house on fire with great dismay, I was too preoccupied with the death of the former Alpha, Peter Hale. Or, perhaps I should say, the _apparent _death. At death, he should have come to the Other Side, but somehow, he didn't. No one saw him. He hadn't been seen alive since the night Derek killed him, so where was his spirit? One could only hope that he wasn't stuck in a limbo state where he could do almost anything he desired. Mentally, I made a note to check on Lydia Martin. If my suspicions were correct, then Peter wouldn't remain deceased for very long. That in itself is rather tedious.

When my mind wasn't on Peter, it was on the Original hybrid Klaus. I was informed beforehand that he was traveling across the country with Stefan Salvatore to find werewolf packs and build himself a hybrid army. I only hoped that if he ever decided to return to this small town, he would leave Derek and Scott alone. Out of curiosity, I had watched them closely, studying their fates with such determination and intrigue, the ones around me had been worried.

Finally managing to get to the tall house that I was to call my home, I sighed, shutting off the Audi I had acquired and taking hold of the black bag in the passenger seat. (In case the topic of driving is becoming curious, I'm still not entirely sure why, but everything seems to be coming naturally to me. Except toasters. I can't explain it, but toasters are unnaturally evil machines.) Sliding out of the silver car smoothly and glancing around to assess my surroundings before reaching into my purse for my keys and striding up to the front door. I still wasn't used to the way my crème colored heels clicked on the pavement and my thigh-length skirt swished around my long legs, but it was one of those things I simply had to endure.

I fumbled with the keys momentarily, then unlocked the door, stepping inside and looking around with amazement not even a week of residency could take away.

Spirits must have amazing connections with those who live, because my home was no where near small. Everything was wide and spacious, the walls painted a neutral beige and the carpets a nice white color...The furniture was plentiful too. And, I had been pleased to discover, none of the floorboards or stairs creaked. The bathroom door did, but only slightly. It was a bit big for only one person, and I was rather uneasy to question how all of this had fallen into my hands, so I simply took it in stride, taking the stairs one at a time up to my bedroom.

Modern interior design is so interesting. When I was alive, some things were decorated beautifully, while others were as plain as possible. The bedroom was definitely the former. I had always been fond of light colors, so lavender walls and a pale pink rug on the floor was a pleasant discovery. There were several mirrors and pictures of scenery scattered artfully on the walls, and everything was placed nicely. I had done some rearranging, opting to move the large bed closer to the window and changing the purple sheers for pink, but everything was to my liking.

I'd never mentioned any of this to anyone, so it was a bit curious that everything was exactly how I liked it. Isn't that just _odd?_

Sinking down onto the soft bed and gently kicking the heels off, I let my eyes wander around the room before they landed on the school registration packet resting on the desk. Getting up and crossing the room in two strides, I opened the envelope yet again and took out the class schedule. I was to start my sophomore year the next day, so I really did need to prepare myself. Studying the list of classes, I chewed on my bottom lip and once again sat on the bed.

First period was history with the semi-retired vampire hunter Alaric Saltzman. That should definitely be interesting. After that, I had chemistry with Adrian Harris, who had been dubbed 'Lucifer's spawn' by some of the local teenagers. That was mildly disconcerting. Then, AP English with John Smith—the name bothered me. It was too common. I needed to keep a side eye on Mr. Smith—and French with Marin Morrell, and after lunch, economics and physical education with Bobby Finstock—which was not my first choice. The man disturbed me on a few different levels—a free period, and then, fantastically enough, algebra with Jessica Miller. My first day was sure to be interesting.

With a small sigh, I tossed the paper away and fell onto my back, staring at the painting on the ceiling. A beautiful night sky, reminiscent of Vincent van Gogh's _Starry Night. _It was nice.

I didn't know how long I laid there, but soon enough, I felt a brief wind run over me, causing my bare arms and legs to get goosebumps. Considering my window was shut, that was cause for concern. Sitting up slowly and propping myself up on my elbows, I didn't have to look too much before my gaze landed on the honey blonde standing in the center of the room, face solemn.

"Imogen?"

**xXx**

The morning was rather calm, oddly enough. I managed to shower and do my makeup—a necessity I wasn't entirely sure I understood—and pick out a nice outfit. Looking in the bathroom mirror and straightening my dark blue dress one last time before rubbing my lips together and fiddling with the jewelry I wore. The simple bird necklace I had been given only left my person during sleep, so of course it was resting on my neck, and the earrings I had adorned were nice. I looked good enough to leave, so I left the bathroom and grabbed my bag, heading downstairs. I really didn't want to be late for my first day of high school. It was deeply necessary that I made a good impression on everyone I was supposed to, so that meant looking presentable and trying to get there on time.

Unlike the previous day, the streets were relatively quiet early in the morning, giving me the opportunity to relax and drive calmly without muttering profanities in French. It took me perhaps five minutes to get to the high school and find a parking space. It was honestly crowded beyond belief. Letting a few curses escape my lips as I shut the door and almost broke my heel—the wretched things were a broken neck waiting to happen—I searched the parking lot with slightly furrowed eyebrows. I wasn't entirely sure why, but I felt as if someone was watching me. Thoughtful frown on my face, I slowly started walking towards the entrance, hoping to get my books and avoid too much conversation with the principal, who would almost definitely ask me where I was from and why I was in Beacon Hills. While my housing, clothing and other necessities were taken care of, it had been up to me to create a life story. How fantastic.

Pushing the door open and walking into the office, I kept my head held high, ignoring the few stares I got. I was there to do one thing and one thing alone—and that thing certainly wasn't learning. My tasks individually were simple. There were a few key people I needed to befriend, which made me a tad uneasy and self-conscious, but Imogen wouldn't have chosen me if I couldn't do it. My list was clear in my head. Elena Gilbert, Caroline Forbes, Bonnie Bennett—who was hopefully going to assist me, since she was a fellow witch—Stiles Stilinski—though I know his real first name, for his sake I'm calling him Stiles—Scott McCall and Allison Argent. The first three would be difficult, as they were in their senior year, but the last three wouldn't take too long.

I hoped.

I had been told as much as the others could tell me, and in turn, I could only tell you a fraction of that information. But the vampires and werewolves needed to have a peacemaker, a middle and rather neutral party. The two groups of teenagers needed my help. What for?

You'll see soon enough.

**Here Ends Entry One.**

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**Sooo..How was it? I've got a specific idea in mind, and I'm trying my hardest to make sure that it seems interesting enough. I'm trying to put everything together as smoothly as possible. Really, my goal is to make it interesting and somewhat plausible. (Since we're dealing with supernatural creatures, obviously not EVERYTHING is plausible.) Also, if you ever want to see any of the outfits, just check out my new polyvore, dropmyheartxbreakyourname.**

**I cut off the scene with Imogen for a reason, but you _will _get to see it soon enough, assuming enough people like this and I keep writing it. (REVIEWS INSPIRE ME. FAVORITES AND FOLLOWS ARE NICE, BUT FEEDBACK IS WHAT GETS ME WRITING. *HINT HINT*)**

**Few things, though.**

**Aurora is not all knowing. She knows of all previous events, yes, but that doesn't necessarily mean she knows everything that's going to happen. The only reason she knows about what Peter might be doing is going to be explained eventually. (And since she's a witch, I'm just saying she'd know what a kanima is, not who the kanima in Beacon Hills is.)**

**John Smith? Is there possibly a faker name? Keep an eye on him. Just the name makes me feel like he could be sketchy. ;)**

**I'll try to evenly divide the plotlines - which very well may end up with me only mentioning some episodes from each show. Since there are only 12 episodes for Teen Wolf, that might very well happen with TVD so I can evenly stretch things out. **

**Who noticed the pattern in the name choices? I left a pretty big hint with her comment on the name Aurora. No, seriously, whoever actually notices that pattern is officially my bestie.**

**This author's note is getting insanely long so I'mma just leave you with this. REVIEW. Tell me what you liked, what you didn't, what you think I could change, what you think of everything so far. I really do appreciate feedback, and without it, I'm not likely to be inspired to write. **


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